


He Is Not That Which He Says He Is

by Owenjones



Series: Good Omens One Shots [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Lesbian Anathema Device, Living Together, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Trans Newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-22 20:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19988518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owenjones/pseuds/Owenjones
Summary: Anathema and Newt continue to live together after the events of the story. They find they rather like it. The two of them are an almost perfect match, after all. But something starts happening with Newt, and Anathema is determined to help him.





	He Is Not That Which He Says He Is

After the end of the world came and went, Anathema and Newt had quickly settled into a routine at Jasmine cottage. Life was simple, and they found that they enjoyed it that way. Anathema said that they would go traveling eventually, but she didn't want to give up life in Tadfield yet. Finding themselves living together, they did everything as a team. He’d stir the food, she’d choose the seasoning. She’d wash the dishes, he’d dry them. He’d dust, she’d vacuum. They always went to the shops together. He stopped her from buying expensive crystals because they already had so many back at home, she stopped him from buying the newest computers because she knew he would break them. 

The one thing they didn’t do was sleep together. They slept next to each other, sure. They even slept in each other’s arms on occasion (she was the big spoon, he was the little spoon). But the prophecy that said that they would only do it once was entirely nice and accurate at that moment. 

There had been something rather uncomfortable with that whole affair, for both of them. So, they had an unspoken agreement to never try it again. And, they were happy enough with that arrangement. But still, it was pretty strange. They complemented each other so well in every other area of domesticity. That was the one thing that they just couldn’t make work. 

Anathema thought she knew why. She’d always had a preference for women, not that she told Newt that. Her mother was unsettled when she got her first girlfriend at age 14, which turned into full-on passive-aggressiveness as Anathema continued to date girls. She never did anything drastic, just always made comments. Little jabs. ‘ _It’s okay, you’ll get over this phase.’ ‘Agnes has big plans for you._ ’ And worse, ‘ _you were supposed to be normal._ ’ It’s true that living with Newt was the closest she’d ever felt to normal, but she attributed that to the fact that she was her own person now, no longer a professional descendent.

But she didn’t know that was only half the reason for their awkwardness.

 _He is not that which he says he is._

Anathema was sewing a new skirt one day. Newt was reading a newspaper. Well, he had the newspaper open, but he was really watching her fluid movements as she threaded the needle in and out of the fabric. 

“Why don’t you just buy one?” He asked.

“Well, the fashion industry is intensely corrupt. The carbon footprint alone from a skirt like this is enough to put me off. Not to mention child labor, the extensive use of microplastics and carcinogenic synthetic dyes. And, oh I’m rambling again aren’t I?”

“I like when you ramble.” 

“Sure you do.” She replied sarcastically, “Also, they last longer if I make them myself.”

“You’re really good at that.” 

“Not really. I have to keep making adjustments. It would be much better if I had like a mannequin or something.” She paused her sewing, “Would you…would you mind?”

He lowered his newspaper to make eye contact, “Mind being your dummy?” 

“Yeah. We’re the same height, right? I just need to figure out what length to hem it at.” 

“No, wouldn’t mind.” His voice cracked slightly. 

This became just another thing that they did together, whenever she began working on a new piece of clothing. It was a good trade-off, like anything else they did. Newt found he rather enjoyed the whole ordeal, and it gave him time to watch telly without feeling too unproductive. Anathema was pleased that her clothes were fitting better than ever, and with less effort on her part too. 

One day, he was wearing a half-made dress as she filled it with sewing pins. He was totally comfortable in the soft material, and Anathema spoke up softly as she worked, “You know, most guys wouldn’t do this.”

“What are you saying?”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m not implying anything. It’s quite nice actually, you look good.”

Newt began to blush, “You think so?”

She was soon done with her adjustments, and Newt had to take it off. He felt some reluctance to get back into his sweater and jeans. He had felt so nice. And his clothes were so drab compared to Anathema’s lacy black dress. He brushed the thought out of his mind, and he grabbed a book to distract himself. 

A thought was prickling him, and it just wouldn’t stop. One day Anathema left their bedroom to find him intently studying a newspaper.

“Whatcha doing?” She yawned and hooked an arm around his shoulders.

“Morning! Just thought I might try to find a job.” 

She narrowed her eyes, “You don’t need a job, I’ve got enough money to support us.” 

Newt sighed. “Yes, well. I was feeling … unproductive. I rather think I need something to do.”

“Bored with me already?” She nudged him, but he hardly cheered up, “Listen, Newt. I think you’re just used to constantly being on the search for jobs. I get it. But, don’t give your time to some soul-sucking corporation when you don’t have to. Find something to do that you really enjoy.” 

“Something I enjoy?”

“Yeah, did you ever have any hobbies?”

“Not really…”

This became Anathema’s new mission. She allowed him to purchase a small laptop, but after the fifth power outage, it was chucked in the bin. The next day she tried to train him in witchcraft. But, as with technology, magic always seemed to backfire in his hands. Attempting a simple good luck charm caused her to trip over her shoelaces for the next week. He had apologized profusely for that. Anathema then suggested that they adopt a pet, but he didn’t really have an interest in the matter. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t like dogs.” Said Anathema.

“Not ‘don’t like.’ I just don’t care for them. I never had one as a kid.” He shrugged.

“Who doesn’t like dogs! Alright what about a cat, then?” 

“See, cats are better.” said Newt, and Anathema looked intensely relieved, “But I’m afraid I’m quite allergic to them.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible!” 

As he turned down every kind of pet imaginable, Anathema began to think of something else.

“What if I teach you to sew?” 

That was the first hobby that seemed to pique his interest. 

They started off slow, and Anathema had bandages at the ready for when he would inevitably prick his thumb. She showed him how to thread the needle and the different types of stitches that could be done. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t have patterns for men’s clothing. I’ve never had to make any before. I could pop to the fabric store to buy some, if you want?” 

Before he could stop himself, Newt said, “No that’s quite alright.” She cocked her head at him, “I mean, while we’re practicing. Dunno if I’m going to be any good at this.” 

“I’ll show you how to work with one of my patterns, then.” 

They sat on the floor all day. Newt examined her hands closely and tried to mimic her graceful movements, only to find himself failing miserably. But, he put an astounding amount of concentration and effort into it, and was rewarded with a skirt! A lopsided, messily sewed skirt, but a skirt nonetheless! He felt quite chuffed. 

Anathema could tell he was pleased, and encouraged him, “Go on, try it on.”

He left the room and came back giggling, “It doesn’t fit!” He was holding the waist of the skirt so that it didn’t fall off completely. 

She joined in his laughing, “We gotta fix this!” She marched right up to him and pinched the fabric, “You just gotta pull the waist in a little.”

A few well-placed pins held that spot. She instructed him on how to resize the skirt. By the time night fell, Newt was stirring their dinner in the long black skirt that fit him perfectly, while Anathema navigated around him to chop vegetables and find the right spices. 

When they lay in bed, Anathema asked him what he thought of that day’s adventure. 

“I’m not quite sure. I don’t think I’m very good at it.”

“No one’s ever good at something the first time they do it, Newt. The important thing is: did you like it?”

“I rather think I did.” 

Anathema ran out of the house as soon as she woke up. Newt was too sleepy to wonder where she was going. By the time she returned, he was only just waking up proper. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” She said as she entered the bedroom brandishing a reusable shopping bag. 

“Wha- that?” Asked Newt.

“I went out to the shops this morning, I grabbed a few patterns for you! I’m sure you don’t want to be just making clothes for me, after all.” 

“Oh. Yes.”

She tried to teach him to make a pair of men’s trousers, but he seemed to have gotten far worse overnight. He was now about as good at sewing as he was at anything else. Which is to say, he was awful at it. They eventually had to put the lessons on hold when his fingers had been pricked beyond reason, and Anathema noticed a stain of blood forming on the fabric. 

She gently bandaged up his hands, and said in almost a whisper, “You were so good yesterday. I don’t know what happened. Maybe pants were a bit too complicated? We could go back to skirts if you like.” 

And Newt just started crying. 

“Aww, come here.” She pulled him into a hug, “It’s alright. Don’t cry.” 

“I don’t even know why I’m crying.” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She rubbed her hand in a circle on his back, “It’s okay,” 

He gave up of sewing. Decided it had caused far too much trouble for what it was worth. But it gave him an awareness that he couldn’t shake. He had never noticed his clothes before, he just wore whatever was cheap and functional. But now he felt where all the seams were. He knew what they would look like as a pattern and a pile of fabric. And now that he’s felt the softness of Anathema’s clothes, his just felt scratchy and cheaply made. The quality of his clothes was nothing compared to what Anathema wore. Just in the months they had been living together, she had already repaired tons of holes that always formed in his clothes. Normally he would have just replaced them; he didn’t form any kind of attachment to the stuff he wore. But Anathema insisted on preserving them. 

But he wasn’t only cursed with an awareness of clothes, but an awareness of his body. He’d always ignored it, thinking he was nothing special to look at. He never even looked at his reflection in the mirror, it was just something instinctive. But now he felt how his clothes hung off him, which features they accentuated, how and where they pressed into his skin. He just wanted to shrivel up. 

The pair took a drive down to Oxford. Anathema had to pick up some specialty items for a new spell she was trying. Newt parked Dick Turpin just outside the city center. She pointed to a chemist, “Let's stop in here for a sec.”

They wandered around the aisles, and Anathema picked up some organic herbal shampoo and lotion. She plucked a box off the shelf and turned to Newt, “Ever thought of dyeing your hair?” tossing the dye over to him. It was a nice purple-y colour. 

“No, I haven’t.” 

“You know, my hair used to be pink.” 

“Wow, I could never.”

“It’s fun. It’s nice. I had pink hair for years so I’m an expert in the whole dyeing process, I could do yours if you want.” 

“I couldn’t possibly!” 

“Okay then.” She placed it back where she found it. They purchased everything else, and continued to the occultist supply store. He followed her around the display tables, looking for anything familiar. He knew the names of some of the stuff, and he vaguely knew that this such herb was good for healing and that one could be used when cursing someone. It was impossible to live with Anathema and not learn at least a bit of this stuff, but most of it was utterly confusing. He decided to let her find her own supplies, while he flipped through one of the display Aquarian magazines. 

When she had purchased a whole basket of supplies, they took a walk around the cobblestone streets. They held hands the whole time, and it was rather nice. He tried to examine what she bought, but couldn’t identify what it was for beyond realizing it was some kind of charm. He vaguely wondered who Anathema had decided to charm. She didn’t tell him that she was planning a variety of spells to conduct for his sake. She was quite worried about her partner, and thought some magic would be in order to get him feeling better. 

They got home, and Anathema immediately locked herself in the office, a room she dedicated to her occultism. She said she had to do something important, and Newt knew better than to question her. Her hands worked over the spell, and she chanted the correct words. _Give Newt the strength to do what he needs to do, give him happiness_ , etc. As this was occurring, Newt found himself alone in the other room. His racing thoughts began to catch up to him, faster and faster. Somehow, he couldn’t shake them this time. 

He knocked on the door to her office. 

“Uh, little busy in here.”

“Anathema?” His voice raised higher than normal.

A lock shifted and she poked her head out, “Yes? Oh! You’re crying!” Annoyance quickly turned to worry. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry Anathema. I love you no matter what, but I understand if you want me to move out.”

“What are you talking about? I love living with you. Come, sit.” She walked him over to the bedroom, where they both sat on the bed, “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know if you could still live with me.”

“Of course I want to live with you.”

“But you won’t want to anymore.” Newt sobbed.

“What’s going on, just tell me.”

“I’m -- I’m a woman!” 

Anathema was taken aback, but then everything came together and made perfect sense, “Oh… thank God. That’s amazing, thank God.” She beamed, “Newt, I’m a lesbian.”

“What?” He looked up at her.

“I’ve always been a lesbian. I was always… prophesied to meet some man, and my parents had always used that as an excuse for their homophobia. I’m so sorry I never told you, but it was because I actually found that I liked being with you. I figured it was irrelevant or maybe they were all right about it being a phase.”

“Oh, that’s horrible! I’m so sorry!”

“No, don’t be. Thank god, things make so much sense now!” She threw her head back and laughed. She launched herself at the woman who had just come out, and landed in her arms. They both screamed as the pair were knocked off the bed and onto the floor. 

Anathema helped her choose the name Natalia, was by her side as she picked up her first prescription for HRT. Anathema made her first dress, and the euphoria Nat felt when she was modeling a dress that was actually meant for her was like nothing else she’d ever experienced. She discovered she could actually like how she looked in clothes. Anathema was ready to put a hex on anyone who dared to suggest that she looked anything other than perfect.

A year in Tadfield came and went, and they had yet to go traveling together. They found themselves enjoying their current life far too much. Their routines in the cottage stayed much the same, even through all the other changes. But they felt so much closer, and so much happier. And when the time came, they slept together for a second time. And this time, things felt absolutely right.


End file.
